The Inbetween
by valonqar
Summary: In the valley between life and death there lies a caste, and in the castle live the souls of the not-gone, the stuck, the wanderers. They do not know why. They do not know how. All they know is that they are there, and that they are home, and that once you are home you can never leave again. Godric/Hermione/Tom, Jily, Sirius/Lily etc. AU


When she wakes up, she doesn't know where she is.

She remembers nothing, save for her name and the fact that she is dead. She must be; in her minds eye she can see the flash of a green light, nothing more, and even with her memory gone Hermione knows what that means. Green light. Green means go in the muggle world. Green means keep on going as you are.

In the world of wizards, green means the stopping of everything at once.

She remembers that she can do magic, and suddenly she remembers where it is that she must be. _Hogwarts_. It looks the same as it did before - old, but regal, decrepit, but beautiful - except now there is now hustle and bustle of students on their way to class, no excited chatter. As she lies on the cool stone of what must be the Entrance Hall - only appropriate, isn't it, that that is where she should start off - Hermione cannot help but feel that the building itself has died, that she lies within it's ghost. Again appropriate, a dead girl in a dead building, but if she is dead, which she must be, how did she get there in the first place?

It isn't as if she walked, and she certainly didn't take the Hogwarts Express. She used to take that with her friends...except now she can't remember their faces, and although she knows she should be saddened by this all the girl feels is a hollow emptiness, like she is missing something that was never even there in the first place.

_Pity. They couldn't have been that important anyways; if they had been, I would remember them_.

The mystery of her life can be saved for later, the witch figures. For, with tingling back into her fingers and a lightness in her limbs that was not there previously, Hermione thinks that she should be looking into the mystery of her death - or rather, what has come after.

Shouldn't she be shocked? Surprised? Upset, surely. She's _dead_, and her life is done, except she doesn't remember a single bit of it. You can't miss something you've never had, after all, and the only thing Hermione feels is grateful that she isn't gone completely. Her rational mind takes over the emotional, the rational mind that is goading her, poking and prodding her until she figured out just _what_ she was doing here, how she had arrived, and more importantly - if she was alone.

And if she was? Hermione supposed it couldn't be all that bad. She knew that she liked books, and solitude would give her plenty of time to read, to create, to _build_. The whole castle was hers - she certainly didn't see any teachers around, at least, and that much was both a comfort and a disappointment.

She could be her own teacher now, like she had dreamed before...before...

Before she stopped.

_Stopped what?_

No, she didn't stop herself. That much she knew for sure. Sitting up with a slight moan, she rubbed the back of her head to find that it was sore - had she fallen? Was that why she couldn't remember? But what she did remember was that she had been killed, _murdered_. By who she didn't know, but a green light wasn't one that you sent upon yourself. A green light was one that came to you from another, although Hermione couldn't, _wouldn't_ understand who would want to stop her.

She wasn't dangerous. She wasn't a fighter, wasn't a revolutionary. She was Hermione...Hermione _someone_, and she had books and she had logic, and she had a kind heart and she would never, _never_ do anything to place a target on her back, a target big enough to warrant her death.

_So what had she done to deserve to die?_

It didn't matter. None of it mattered - not yet, anyways. Not unless this was some kind of purgatory for the damned, and she had been executed for her crimes, although that seemed unlikely - execution was rare in the wizarding world, she knew that much. Dementors were the preferred means of punishment. No, that wasn't right, and that didn't matter. What mattered first was where she was, and after she discovered the where and the why she could begin to investigate the how.

And then she could begin to investigate the exit. Where there was a way in there was always a way out, something she had learned long ago, and that had to ring true for this place.

She could feel it. Hermione didn't like the feeling in her gut, as it went against what was in her head, but she could feel that there was something pulling her back, something that needed her help. Seated on the floor of an empty entrance hall she felt especially helpless, especially lost, and suddenly especially desperate to find a way back.

"Don't think I've seen you before. Did you just fall in? Always a bit of a shock, waking up here. Of course, I don't really remember it myself. This place'll do that to you - remembering's not all that important here."

The voice reaches her before it's owner, and when she glances up she it met with a friendly face - a shock of red hair, a goofy grin, and suddenly she feels quite a bit more comfortable, quite a bit more at home. He's familiar, familiar in a way that causes her heart to ache, but Hermione doesn't think much of it. They haven't met before, she knows that much. A face like this blokes isn't one like to be forgotten.

He grins like a puppy dog, desperate to please, as he helps her up to her feet. "Name's Godric. And this," he extends his arms out to the empty room as he speaks, looking terribly happy with himself. "Is Hogwarts. Well, kind of. This is Hogwarts for us dead folk. More of a giant house than it is a school, unless you're the _Rowena type_, in which case you and I probably aren't going to get on very well." _Teasing her_. A mischevious glint in his eyes, like he wants to be her friend, like he thinks she already is.

_Weird_. She doesn't actually mind all that much.

Godric is waiting for her to speak, Hermione can tell, although as soon as she hears his name another chord is struck in her. Godric..._Godric_...but no, there's nothing, and she speaks as soon as she is able to find her voice again.

"Hermione. Hermione...I can't remember. You said remembering's...not important here? Why? Why is that?" She's desperate for information, her own thirst for knowledge returning quicker than her strength, and she hopes beyond anything that he'll be able to give her answers, shed some light on this not-Hogwarts that she has found herself trapped in, this not-death that has become her new life.

_Perhaps it is all a dream. A horrible dream, and I'll wake up and be with...them. Whoever they are, they'll want me back._

But no, because Godric is speaking once more, and if it is a dream it is one that is all too real.

"Whatever happened back there doesn't matter. There's load of us here - you'll make new friends, make a new life, except this one goes on forever. It's _better_ here. Happier. No one dies. Sometimes people leave, but that's rare, and random. Most people stay, and they find love, and life goes on."

She wants to shout at him that it's _horrible_, that it's _all wrong. _That you can't just die in one place and wake up in another, that it doesn't make any sense, can't he see? None of it makes any sense, but he's already leading her towards where she knows will be the Great Hall, and she figures she has to say something before it's too late, before there's too many people and not enough time.

"Is there any way out?" she asks hurriedly, trailing behind him while trying to buy herself time. "Is there any way to get back?"

Godric looks genuinely confused, as if he can't believe she would ever ask such a question. Surely she can't be the first? Surely she can't be the only one who has been desperate to return to the before, to the beyond, to the world from which she came?

"I suppose they're might be. 'Course, no one's ever tried - why would you want to leave this place?"

And then he's opening the doors, those familiar grand wooden doors, and behind them lie a flurry of activity and laughter and _life_, hundreds upon hundreds of students laughing and chatting at the tables that line the Great Hall, except none of them wear house colours, and no teachers line the table at the top. Rather they are dressed in normal clothing, and there are no houses dividing them (what are these houses she keeps thinking of? She _must_ look into that later, when she has the chance), and all at once Hermione feels entirely content.

_Yes, this must be why no one wants to leave when they arrive. Look at it; it's wonderful. All laughter, all joy and happiness. Who could ever want to leave a place like this?_

It is then, sucked in by the air of joy that radiates from all around her, and tired - likely from the fact that she's just _died_, and Hermione almost laughs at the bizarre wrong-rightness of it all - she shuts down the logic centre of her brain, the one that protests that it's too perfect, there's too much right and not enough wrong, because quite frankly, she can't see a single thing about this afterlife that's worth protesting.

_And that, _her mind demands, although she has stopped listening, _is exactly why you need to run._

_Run._

Godric introduces her to his friends with a fervour she finds endearing. He's a pleaser, this one, wanting her to fit in right away. And to be honest, she does feel incredibly comfortable around these people. Strangers, all of them, and yet they greet her like old friends, like they are truly thrilled that they are there, and she feels the same.

Rowena is the first - Godric had mentioned her earlier, and at once she sees what he meant. She bears many similarities to Hermione herself; the same studious disposition, an intellectual at heart, and although she is rather quiet and doesn't say much, the girl feels a kinship right away. Perhaps they will not be fast friends, but they will get along well, that much she knows.

Next is a pretty redhead named Lily, and her boyfriend, a handsome dark-haired boy who introduces himself as Sirius. She's fiery and clever, and he's witty and loud, and together they make _quite _the couple; constantly snogging, always touching each other in some place - clearly a relationship that's more physical than emotional, seeing as how the two don't seem to be doing a lot of talking, and Hermione can't help but notice the next boy who's introduced, a boy named James, seated at Sirius' right-hand side, who stares at the two constantly - or, more specifically, at the girl seated practically in his best friend's lap.

_Ah. She'll have to ask more about that later._

"You'll like it here," James promises ardently when he turns away from his friend and the pretty girl, the bright smile on his face one that Hermione thinks she could get used to seeing."S'not hard to make friends, seeing as we've all got loads in common - if you ever run out of topics of conversation, the fact that we're all dead is an easy one to fall back on. And there's no teachers, so we can do whatever we bloody well please!"

At the high five between James and Sirius she rolls her eyes - a familiar feeling, and she can't help but wonder if, back when she was alive, she did that often.

Helga is a sweet girl with strawberry blonde hair and flushed round cheeks who chats with Hermione straight away, easing into a familiar friendship that the young witch is rather taken aback by, although not disappointed. It's a reassurance, being comfortable with people in such a short amount of time, although it also almost seems an impossibility.

"Sorry about Godric," she whispers when the red-haired boy is turned away, appearing to be in an intense discussion with Newt about a game Hermione has never heard of. "He tries so hard to make everyone get along and get everyone settled. It's sort of like he's our leader, just wanting everybody to love it here as much as he does."

"I can see that," Hermione replies with a fond smile, deciding that she likes the boy already. Despite the fact that he seemed a touch thick about some things, like the way half of the girls in the hall were hanging on his every word, he was genuine, and she needed genuine people around her. "It's no trouble, really."

"All new arrivals should have friends, and you should know that we want you to be ours! It's only right, since Godric found you - it shows that you were meant to come with us. We just want you to feel perfectly at home."

Smiling in response, Hermione can't help but get this sensation that she does already, and she feels a bit worried at the thought. Such a short amount of time has passed since she's arrived - surely no more than an hour or so, and it's as curious that she should feel so familiar with her surroundings and her company so quickly.

As a matter of fact, she's not even sure that is _has _been that quickly. It felt like no time had passed at all as they sat chatting away at the dinner table, but Hermione is distinctly aware of the fact that, when she had first entered the hall, the sky had been a dark, swirling black, void of stars but the moon, round and vast, still shone down upon them. And yet now the sky shone a crystalline blue, and it was mid-day at least, and she wondered how they could have been their so long without anyone noticing.

But the introductions are still happing, the chattering continuing on and on as the hours - or was it seconds? - passed, and she fell back in to easy chatter without any struggle.

There were many more; notably a studious yet charming man named Newt, and a girl with pretty blue eyes who could not remember her name at all, and so opted to call herself _Cloudy_, although why anyone would possibly ever want that name Hermione cannot imagine.

And then there are the less-than-sociable types - Salazar, a raven-haired man seated in the corner who stares at Helga endlessly, and Hermione thinks she'll have to look into that one as well. Various other witches and wizards are listed as the _'unfriendly folk'_, and she makes mental note to stay as far away from all of them as possible.

But there's one who catches her eye, and she thinks she must mention him before it's too late.

"Who's that? Sitting over there?" And she's sure they all know _just_ who she's talking about - how could you not? With black hair and black eyes and a face that looks like it's been sculpted by Merlin himself, he's not exactly hard to miss. He looks like he's the sort who is endlessly bored purely because the rest of the world is too _simple _for them, too _ordinary_, and Hermione can, in a sense, relate. At the table just across from them he stares into his food like he wishes to incinerate it where it rests, and his look would almost be comical were it not so frightening.

"Ah," Godric huffs, not even glancing to look where she is. "So you've noticed Tom, hey? Everybody does eventually. Keeps to himself, although he's kinda creepy about it - always _stares_. There's a couple of them, don't remember much more about their lives than we do, but they remember that they're pureblood, you can bet on that. Tom's like a _master _to them; heard they aren't even allowed to look him in the eye."

"He sounds awful." Yet another indicator why looks were a dangerous thing. Had she not asked, she could have fallen right into the trap of a dangerous boy. "Can I ask you something else? Sorry to be such a pest," she added with a slight flush, realizing just how much she was prying. But knowledge is knowledge and knowledge is key, and she _has_ to learn more. "I just...I'm rather curious about this place. I'm feeling...a touch off."

They all look genuinely mystified by this statement, all except Rowena, who keeps her nose glued in her book. Can they really not have noticed? Hermione supposes she doesn't blame them. She had only been there for...well, she wasn't sure _how_ long, exactly, but they had been there much longer, and were likely less aware of the oddities of the place than her. Endless amounts of time wandering around the stone halls had likely dulled their senses to the feeling of discomfort that this castle provided, but having just arrived, and now having pulled herself out of the trance that the food had provided, she was acutely more aware of everything..._wrong_ with where they were.

"Is there a problem, Hermione?" Helena asks worriedly, placing a hand atop her own and looking terribly concerned. "We'll do _whatever_ we can to help you, I promise. You can ask us anything, really."

With a few more murmurs of conscent, and assurances that _yes_, she can ask what she likes of them, Hermione takes a deep breath and prays that someone knows the answer.

"Well, I couldn't help but notice how strangely time passes. When I arrived it was night, and then it was day, and now the sun's setting once more. And, well." Pausing, she glances at all the worried faces around her, chewing her lip slightly before continuing. "You're all so _young_. All of us. We're all so young, the oldest person I've seen can't be any older than twenty, and there's no _way_ we all died when we were this young...is there? I can't remember how old I was, I can't remember a _thing_, but it just seems impossible. Doesn't it?"

Hermione is so desperate for an answer, so terribly desperate, and yet they are all looking at her like she's lost her mind. Surely they must see it too? Must see the wrongness of it all?

But _no_, because when Sirius speaks to her he speaks too slowly, too delicately, like he's speaking to a small child, and she wants to smack him where he sits.

"It's because we were the happiest when we were this age, obviously. Who would want to die and spend their afterlife as an old man? Not me!" Laughing, he gives Lily a too-large kiss as he says this, but Hermione sees the look his girlfriend gives her - _a warning. _They'll talk later, she's sure of it.

"And the reason time passes all weird is because we're not on Earth," Godric says in near the same tone as Sirius, except his is slightly less condescending and a little more understanding. She's confused and tired, he knows that, and she knows that he must think that she just isn't on the top of her game. But that's not it, not at all. Hermione is _always_ on her game, and she doesn't know why, but something in her seems to be rather used to picking up on when something's not right. "We sleep when we're tired, eat when we're hungry. That's the best part about this place - there's no time holding us back. We're free to do whatever we want, whenever we want to."

It's a solid enough explanation, and all these new people seem as if they just want her to enjoy herself, but Hermione can't shake the feeling that there's something they're choosing to ignore.

That, and there's the fact that, just a few meters away, the boy Tom is looking at her rather intently, and before she knows what she is doing Hermione looks him in the eyes.

And just as suddenly, all she feels is a rush of dread.

_What was that that Godric said? No one's allowed to look him in the eye?_

But no lightning strikes her down when she sits, no one tries to kill her for the second time. Instead all he does is quirk an eyebrow, but other than that doesn't appear to be the slightest bit miffed, and the girl lets out a silent release of breath. She doesn't want anything, or any_one_, to interfere with her research about this place; making enemies with a boy who sounded like he was rather dangerous didn't seem like the greatest way to start that.

In any case, the meal appears to be wrapping up now that the sun is rising in the sky once more, and Hermione heads out of the Great Hall with Helga chatting in one ear and Godric the other, both talking rapidly about all the _wonderful_ things they are going to do together, in the little empty town whose name is unknown, but is filled with stores of wonders, and the games they'll play, and the things they'll do.

And Hermione is excited - truly, she is, but even so she cannot help but wonder if all of _this_ can be what it appears to be.

It is then, nearing the doors, that she feels a cold, small hand wrap around her arm, stopping her in her tracks. Rowena, tall and intimidatingly lovely, is staring down upon her with cold, curious eyes, and Hermione feels a sudden sensation of dread.

Did she say something wrong? Was she prying too much? The girl hadn't looked up from her novel, but surely she had heard Hermione's questioning, and the look that Lily had sent her way hadn't seemed all that encouraging at all. What if...what if they were going to _do_ something to her? She wasn't sure what - torture seemed out of the option, and killing wasn't going to work since she was, well, _dead_, but perhaps that only made room for more unimaginable things, things that couldn't possibly happen anywhere else but here.

_Is this why she died, back in her other life? Asking too many questions? Honestly, it didn't seem to be too much of a longshot._

"The next time the bell rings, come to the library. We've got a little study group that I think you would be interested in." _Bell? _Hermione wants to ask what bell the girl is talking about, but the look in her eyes clearly warns her not to say a word. "Don't mention this to anyone. We're rather exclusive."

With a curl of her lips she beings to walk away, leaving Hermione standing in the doorway feeling a mixture of dread and excitement. _Study group? Could she possibly mean...? _No, it wasn't possible, but then Rowena was turning back around again and smiling, and the dread was wiped clean with anticipation.

"You're not the only person who has questions, Hermione."

**A/N: so...yeah, I know it's a little weird, but keep hanging in there and I promise, **_**all**_** questions will be answered. The concept of the other world was vaguely inspired by the Lovely Bones, but just a bit.**

**Can't decide if I want to write Godric/Hermione or Tom/Hermione, I guess we'll just have to see what happens XD**

**Constructive criticism and opinions are always appreciated - if you leave a review I can write the story closer to how **_**you**_** want it, so don't be afraid to let me know!**

**xx Molly**


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